It's Going To Be Okay
by Lycosolen
Summary: This time, it was a little too close for comfort. Post CATWS.


**It's Going To Be Okay**

 **Author's notes and warnings:**

So… this has been a few months in the making. I'm not too sure about it, but here it is.

I don't think I have anyone exactly in character; I apologize in advance for that. Also, I'm not really good at writing the "banter parts" between characters, which sucks 'cause I think those are ones of the best parts of a story.

I didn't read the comics or anything, so I'm not too sure about what I wrote concerning the supersoldier's serum. I guess you'll just have to bear with me on this one.

Finally, "Civil War" never happened here.

* * *

Steve, Bucky, Natasha and Sam had been searching for signs of life in this Hydra base for nearly an hour now. The two supersoldiers had gone further into the base, making sure there was nobody inside, while Natasha and Sam had gathered every documents and other stuff that seemed useful.

"Guys," said Natasha in her earpiece, "I think we can go now. I'll bring the truck around. Be there in five."

And then she left while Sam waited for his two friends to return.

Five minutes passed and, still, there were no signs of Steve and Bucky. Sam was getting kind of worried. Sure, the two supersoldiers could take care of themselves, but they could still get hurt.

"Ah… Don't think like that, Wilson," he told himself and, just as he was saying this, he heard something.

It was definitely the sound of a gunshot.

"Sam, what's going on?" asked Natasha through his earpiece.

"I don't know. I'll go check it out," he answered.

"Need some help?"

"Naw… You should probably stay in the truck, in case we need to leave and fast."

"Okay, but if you're not here in five minutes, I'm going in."

"Thanks, Mom."

"Wilson… Don't test me."

* * *

By the time he had reached the hallway where Steve and Bucky had disappeared to, Sam had heard multiple gunshots fired, and there were still no signs of his friends. Suddenly, he saw something move in the dark and got his gun out.

"Don't shoot!" yelled Steve.

Sam put his gun down immediately and sighed audibly.

"Man, what the hell happened? Where's Bucky?" he said.

It was then he saw the metallic arm around Steve's shoulder, shining briefly in the darkness. He ran towards them and stopped, frozen, for a second, before taking Bucky's right arm over his own shoulder.

"What happened?" he repeated while they continued running.

Now that they were in a more lighted area of the base, he took in the appearance of the wounded soldier hanging between Steve and himself.

Bucky didn't look good. His face was pale and covered in beads of sweat. His eyes were half-closed and his lips pinched into a fine line; he was definitely in pain, but didn't want to draw too much attention to himself.

Sam's eyes continued to scan the man's body while still running with Steve, and that's when he saw it: blood was covering his entire left lower side and drips of it were still falling onto the floor. The Falcon looked at Steve, frowning.

"Cap…" he whispered.

"Not now, Sam," Steve answered, sounding as worried as he looked.

When they reached the truck, Natasha had been about to go and find them. But when she saw the three men, especially the one being almost dragged in between the other two, she started up the truck, got the window on the passenger side down and shouted:

"We got to get moving, fast!"

"Really, that's the best you can come up with?" Sam yelled back while helping Cap get Bucky in the back of the vehicle.

Once the two soldiers were safely seated and the doors were closed, Sam ran to the passenger side, opened the door and sat down. He barely had time to shut the door before a gunshot rang out and the bullet embedded itself in the metallic frame. Sam got his gun out again and fired one shot through the open window; the Hydra agent went straight down onto the pavement.

* * *

While the truck was speeding onto the road, Steve was sitting in the back of the vehicle with Bucky lying down across him, his head resting on Steve's chest, right above his heart. Steve's left hand was pressing urgently against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Bucky... stay with me, buddy, alright?" Steve murmured into his friend's ear.

The soldier whimpered softly when Steve's hand pushed a little too hard against his side – but he would forever deny it; he wasn't supposed to show he was in pain! He didn't think he was even supposed to be feeling this much pain from a simple gunshot wound… He tried to get away from Steve, but his friend tightened his hold on him with his arms.

"Stay still. Come on, you're going to be fine, okay?" The Captain's voice was getting kind of frantic and louder; loud enough for Natasha and Sam to hear it.

When Bucky was about to close his eyes, Steve shook him a little, afraid this could be _it_. He couldn't go through that again, certainly not so soon after finding Bucky after all these years, and also after he had just begun to heal.

He felt his friend's fleshy hand squeeze his own gently.

"It's… going to be… okay, Steve," Bucky spoke with a soft voice, his breath coming in sharp gasps.

The words were meant to comfort him, but Steve took them as if Bucky was saying goodbye to him and telling him they were okay, if he died here and now. Cap was having none of it. He hit the back of his head against the side of the truck, his eyes beginning to moist with tears.

"No, it isn't, Buck," he said. After a moment, he added, heartbrokenly, "Peggy died this morning."

Everything then fell really quiet.

Natasha and Sam glanced at each other before the red-headed woman turned her gaze back towards the road. Sam swallowed heavily, a feeling of sadness invading him; Bucky was probably the last link Steve had with his "old" life now.

Bucky blinked, not really knowing what to say. "I'm sorry" didn't exactly convey everything he felt and, now, "it's okay" seemed like it wasn't and never would be enough. So he just put his right hand onto Steve's left, the one that was firmly pressed against the bleeding wound, and squeezed it weakly.

That seemed to bring Steve back to the present. He straightened from his slouched position against the interior of the truck, bringing his wounded friend even closer to himself, as if he could prevent him from slipping away just by holding him. He then put his right hand onto Bucky's fleshy one, unconsciously making small and slow circles into the palm with his fingers.

That made one of the soldier's memories come back to the surface: he used to do the same thing to Steve when his friend got sick, before the serum.

Exhausted and getting cold, Bucky closed his eyes and sank into the blond man's warm embrace. He had just been shot and his life was slowly beginning to wane, but, then and there, he felt safer than he had ever been in seven decades.

"Hold on, Buck, please," whispered Steve brokenly, shaking his friend gently, trying to keep him awake.

"I'm still here…" said Bucky, weakly. "I'm still here, Stevie…"

* * *

They'd been on the road for almost half an hour when Steve heard it; there was an helicopter outside.

"I called Stark," said Natasha by way of explanation and she stopped the truck near the flying vehicle.

Bucky was beginning to get heavier in Cap's arms, and his breathing had worsened. When Sam opened the back doors, Steve got on his knees and put his arms under Bucky's shoulders and knees, carefully lifting him. Even then, the wounded soldier moaned quietly and buried his face into Steve's neck.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, Buck. Come on, we're going to get you help, okay?" Steve whispered.

By the time they got into the helicopter, the wounded man, settled back into his friend's arms, was paler than before and his face was scrunched up in pain. Steve resumed stroking his hand, which seemed to calm him down a little.

Natasha made a little nod to Sam to climb up with them, but, right before he did, she took him apart and whispered to him: "Just make sure he takes care of himself, too."

"Will do," Sam answered. "What are you going to do?"

"I'll meet you back at the base. I just got to make sure of something. Don't worry," she said when she saw a confused expression on Falcon's face. "I got company."

While they were all busy making sure Bucky got into the helicopter safely, they hadn't seen Clint coming up to them.

"You should go," Barton said to Sam, nodding towards the flying vehicle.

Sam nodded in return and climbed up, next to the two supersoldiers. He closed the door and the big mechanical bird began to rise into the air, rapidly getting them to the new Avengers' facility.

Once they arrived, Bucky was quickly transported to the medical area of the base, where a doctor and nurses began to assess his condition. Steve was following his friend to where he was being checked up on a gurney. Scared and frustrated at the situation, he almost got in the way of the medical staff by wanting to be at his friend's side before being stopped by Sam.

"Hey… Steve, come on, let them work."

The supersoldier was about to argue, but Sam continued with a calming voice: "You need to let them work on him so they can help him get better. Come on, come sit down and tell me what happened."

While he was talking, he led the blond man back towards the entrance of the medical section and sat next to him on the chairs that were nearby.

Steve was a mess: his uniform was covered in blood, his hands – also covered with the crimson substance – were slightly shaking, and his face looked white, almost as much as Bucky's was when Sam found the two of them in the Hydra base. His right leg was jumping up and down on the floor, and his breathing was shallow and fast; his eyes, now a pale almost translucid blue, were fixed on the glass door behind which lied his childhood best friend.

"Steve…" the Falcon began hesitantly.

"We checked, Sam. There was nobody there; it was like they came out of nowhere. Seven, eight of them… We disabled them easily enough, but… not before one of them shot at me. Bucky…"

Steve closed his eyes for a few seconds before opening them again, still watching at the medical staff working on his friend, as if he was going to disappear if he looked away.

"Bucky took that bullet for me, because I was too busy fighting two other agents instead of just…"

"Hey! This isn't your fault, Steve," Sam interrupted him. "You know you would have done the same for him – and he knows it too."

Steve continued as if he hadn't heard him.

"I don't know what kind of weapon that was, but it wasn't a regular gun. I saw Bucky going down almost immediately, so I took care of the two guys pretty fast and threw my shield to the one who'd fired the gun. I went to Bucky's side; I had to wake him up because he was unconscious. After that, we just left and that's when you found us…"

Steve's face went even paler all of a sudden and he collapsed in the chair, the back of his head hitting the wall behind him.

"Hum, Steve…" Sam said, worried.

"I can't…" Steve shook his head slightly. "I can't lose him again, Sam," he whispered, "I just _can't_."

"I know," Sam sighed. "I know. I'm… I'm sorry about Peggy. Man, you… Why didn't you say anything?"

The other man was trying to get Steve to think about something else, even if that something wasn't exactly pleasant either. Anything was better than letting him think about the condition Bucky was in right now.

Steve turned his head towards him; his eyes looked haunted.

"I don't know," Cap answered. "I guess… I guess I wasn't truly believing it then, you know? When they called me, I just… I didn't really had time to process it before I got called for this mission…"

He turned his head back towards the glass door, but a dark curtain was now hiding Bucky from the outside. He was about to get up and ask for some news, but Sam stopped him again by putting a gentle hand on his knee. Before Steve could say anything, they both heard a voice saying:

"The place is completely cleaned now. Clint and I went back there. We brought this back," Natasha said, putting the shield on the chair next to Cap. "And we also brought this…"

She handed Steve a gun… presumably the same one that had put Bucky down. It looked different than an ordinary gun, though; more like a little tranquilizer gun loaded with small projectiles filled with a yellowish liquid instead of bullets. Steve got up so fast he swayed a little, his eyes fixed on the weapon. Natasha put her hand steadily on his shaking arm.

"Oh, there, Rogers. You need a little R&R right now," she began to say.

"No… maybe this can help. We have to give this to…"

"…the medical staff, I know," finished Natasha. "Sam will do that, alright? You, my friend, are coming with me."

Her tone suggested that no arguments would be tolerated. The Black Widow took the gun from Cap's hand and gave it to Falcon.

"Now, come on. There's a bed calling your name somewhere."

She got extremely anxious when Cap just looked at the glass door sadly and began to slowly follow her; she thought she would need to fight him a lot more than that. Concerned, she frowned in Sam's direction when Steve wasn't looking at her.

"Come on," she repeated gently, leading him away towards the Avengers' personal rooms.

Once there, they went directly to Steve's quarters where Natasha told him to clean up, promising to get back soon before disappearing down the hall.

Steve went into his bathroom as if he was trapped inside a dream, putting his feet one in front of the other only by sheer instinct. Once in front of the mirror, he took a closer look at himself for the first time since his friend had been hurt: his white face, his blue eyes that were now pale and lifeless, and… the blood that covered his neck – he must've had touched it when he pulled out his helmet after assessing his friend's condition…

Shaking hands grabbed the edge of the sink, trying to stabilize his equally trembling legs. But then, he saw more blood – _Bucky's blood_ – staining his hands and he couldn't take it. He collapsed on his knees on the floor, in front of the cabinet, and closed his eyes, sharp breaths coming out of his mouth. He lowered his head until it was pressed against the cabinet. His shoulders began to move with the force of his silent sobs. He didn't even hear Natasha coming back into the room and kneeling next to him. The red-headed woman didn't utter any word; she just put her arm around him hesitantly, as if she was afraid he would push her away, and brought his body against hers, his head coming to rest on her shoulder heavily. She let him cry – about his friend who was fighting for his life, but also for the woman he hadn't had a real chance to love and with whom he would never get to have his dance –, making soothing movements with her hand on his arm and putting her own head against the back of his.

" _Please, Bucky, you have to be alright,_ " she thought to herself. " _Steve will never forgive himself if you don't, even if it wasn't his fault._ "

* * *

After a while, the pair got up slowly from the floor, Natasha sporting a neutral look on her face and Steve trying to wipe the proof of his breakdown away with the back of his hand as not to spread the blood all over his face.

"Think you can clean up and rest a little now?" Natasha whispered.

Steve nodded, sniffling a little.

"I'm sorry…" he began to say softly.

"Don't. Just…" She sighed. "Just take care of yourself for now. Bucky's going to need you when he wakes up."

Steve nodded again and began to take his uniform off, his mind still in a daze. Natasha left and closed the door to give him some privacy. She then sat on the edge of the bed, putting her head into her hands.

"Don't make me a liar, Barnes. Not about this," she murmured.

* * *

About fifteen minutes later, the young woman heard the shower being turned off and she got up, pulling the covers off the bed. When Steve got out of the bathroom, he was wearing the clothes Natasha had left for him when she had come into the small room to find him on the floor.

The blond man looked better without the red liquid staining his body. His eyes appeared a little more alive than before, even if still full of sadness and… something else the Black Widow couldn't exactly described, and he wasn't shaking anymore. He made his way to the bed without looking at his friend and, right before he sat on it, he turned back towards the small now steaming room and said:

"I should…"

"I'll take care of it," Natasha answered, knowing he was talking about his bloody uniform piled on the floor. "Just… try and rest a little. They're still working on him. There's nothing we can do for the moment," she added softly.

"I know…" Steve sighed, finally sitting on his bed.

That's what made him want to rip out the entire room and, at the same time, breakdown again. There was nothing he could do to help his friend right now…

"Try and get some rest," Natasha repeated. "Wilson or I will get you when… we have news."

She put her hand briefly on the nape of his neck. He sighed, nodded and lied down under the covers, his back to her. As if frozen by the emotional wreck that was Steve at the moment, she stayed still for a few minutes, watching his back; then she went to take his ruined suit, and left the room. But right before she closed the door, she heard Cap say:

"Thank you, Nat…"

She smiled, showing a rare display of affection, closed the door and went towards the medical area where Sam and Clint were still waiting.

"So… how is he?" Sam asked when she sat down beside him, throwing the clothes on the chair next to hers.

"How do you think?" she almost snapped and, after taking a deep breath, she continued, "I'm sorry… He's… better, but… I don't know. If Bucky doesn't make it…" She hesitated before continuing, "Let's just say Hydra won't even see him coming."

* * *

Sitting on a chair next to Bucky's bed, in a room across the medical section of the base, Steve was waiting for his friend to wake up… or at least make a move, even just a little twitch of a finger, to let him know he was going to be okay, or something. This waiting thing wasn't exactly… his thing.

After Natasha had left his room two days earlier, he had tried to get some sleep, but everytime he'd closed his eyes, all he had been seeing was Bucky falling after being shot, blood all over his body, getting on Steve's hands and clothes; Bucky falling off the train in 1944, screaming his way down; Peggy looking older and disoriented in her bed, the call he had received that morning when they had told him about her passing away…

But finally, mentally and emotionally exhausted, the supersoldier's body had surrendered to sleep. It had seemed like only a few minutes had passed when someone had shaken his shoulder gently.

Steve had groaned softly, lifting his head off the pillow and turning towards the person in the room. Sam had been there, the expression on his face neutral, telling him that there were – finally! – some news. Steve had gotten up immediately, almost tripping in the covers in his haste to get to the door, following Falcon in his steps towards the medical area where a doctor was standing in his white lab coat next to Natasha and Clint.

The doctor had been the one to operate on Bucky. He had told the four of them that his patient was stable and resting, that it would probably be a few days before he woke up because the serum in his body, which wasn't exactly the same as Steve's, had caused a bad reaction when in contact with the substance they had found in the projectile fired at him. They still didn't know what the reaction would have been if Steve had gotten hit instead, which was supposedly the original plan.

Steve hadn't been exactly sure what the doctor had said after that; he had been so relieved to hear that his friend was effectively going to be okay that his mind had just blanked for a moment. Tears of relief had found their way in the corner of his eyes, but he hadn't let them fall. He had been so happy that he'd just thrown his arms around the doctor, lifted him off the floor and squeezed – not too hard, but…

"Hum, Steve… You should set him back down before you crush him or something," Sam had said, smiling.

"Oh! Sorry, sorry…" he'd answered, putting the man down instantly. His smile could have lightened up the entire building; he'd almost looked like a kid at his birthday party, grinning from ear to ear like that.

"Can I see him?" he'd asked. "I won't bother him or anything, I just…" He'd stopped talking, too content to still have Bucky here, alive and well on his way to being relatively fine again. He'd felt the deepest _need_ to see his friend and make sure this wasn't just a dream.

After having gathered his spirits, the doctor had nodded and pointed him in the right direction. Steve had thanked him and ran out of the room.

* * *

"Sorry, Doc. I think… he's just really happy. You saved two lives today," Sam had said after the soldier had gone to see his friend.

After the doctor had left, the three Avengers had collapsed into the chairs behind them, letting out a collective sigh simultaneously. They then had looked at each other and laughed softly. _Finally_ , something good was happening for a change.

* * *

Now, two days later, Steve was still sitting at Bucky's side, waiting, his forehead against the wounded soldier's shoulder, the tip of his fingers ghosting over the palm of his friend's fleshy hand, making slow circles into it.

He remembered doing that in the truck, on their way to the Avengers' facility, when Bucky was bleeding in his arms. He also remembered Bucky doing this to him, before he had the serum, when he was just a skinny little guy and he had gotten so sick during this freezing winter… Bucky didn't know it, but Steve had woken up at some point, having a rare moment of lucidity, to his friend, silent vigil with red and misty eyes sitting next to him, holding his hand and making those slow patterns into his palm. It had kept him grounded then, knowing he still had someone who cared about him and what happened to him, since his mother had passed away. It had given him the strength he needed to fight and live longer.

Steve was almost sleeping when he felt it; a twitch of a finger against his. He lifted his head and held his breath briefly.

"Bucky…?" he whispered hopefully.

He waited a few seconds; nothing happened. He was about to put his head back down when he heard his friend moan quietly.

"Bucky…" he repeated a little more firmly.

"Hmm…" the soldier replied, turning his head slowly towards the familiar voice, his eyes still closed.

"Hey…" Steve spoke softly. "You… you feeling okay?"

He closed his hand tightly but gently around the one of his friend, trying to keep him awake.

"Hmm… Stevie…?" Bucky rasped, his eyes blinking sluggishly in the semi-darkness of the room, slowly focussing on the blond man sitting beside him. He frowned slightly and asked, "What happened?"

"You… you got shot, remember?" Steve answered. "It… the projectile did something that interfered with the serum in your body, or something. I don't really… hum… You'll have to ask the doctor. I didn't exactly understand or listened…"

Bucky laughed softly. "You're babbling, Rogers."

Steve closed his mouth and, after a few seconds, he sighed, letting the air out through his nose.

"I know," he finally said. "Sorry. I'm just…"

He sat on the bed next to his friend who raised the head of it slowly with the remote control. After a brief hesitation, Steve put his arms around Bucky, lowering his head onto his shoulder, gently squeezing his body, afraid he might hurt him more.

"I know you can't promise this, but… please, try not to ever do something like that again. It's just you and me now, pal. There's nobody else left…" he murmured against him, his eyes closing.

Not totally used to being touched like this yet, Bucky raised his right arm and awkwardly patted Cap on the back. But after a few moments, he finally let himself be held and put his metallic hand on Steve's right arm gently, wincing a little when the movement pulled at his stitched wound.

"It's going to be okay, Steve," Bucky whispered. "I'm… _We're_ going to be okay."

This time, Steve believed him.


End file.
